Garage Sale
by SisiDraig - 2
Summary: Howince. One shot, Vince is feeling depressed... Please R


**Hiya,  
This is my first Mighty Boosh fic, so please be kind! :)**

**I.B xxxxx**

**Thanks to JantoFan for BETA'ing!!**

**Disclaimer: The Mighty Boosh and all characters belong to Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding, BBC and Baby Cow Productions. I make no money from this, so don't sue me! :)**

* * *

He hadn't said a thing all morning. He'd just sat on the sofa, eyes unfocused, gazing at his mug as the tea went slowly cold. If you spoke to him he'd just say something about feeling as though he were in a €1000 jumpsuit without accessories, which everyone had translated as - he felt incomplete. He looked miserable and it wasn't right. It didn't suit him. Howard was the miserable one. Howard was the broken, fractured soul, the dark and depressive yin to Vince's beach ball naivety and bright, optimistic yang. This was wrong, this was backwards. They couldn't both be despondent, that's just not how The Mighty Boosh worked.

Howard had warned him this would happen. He'd said it over and over and over again as each glittery outfit, pink feather bower and chimney sweeps brush had hit the ever mounting pile. Howard had told him he'd regret it afterwards; "You'll regret it afterwards."

But Vince had promised he wouldn't; "I promise I wont."

He did though. He'd regretted it as soon as that first fat woman had walked off with _his_ jeans and he'd hardly been able to peel his fingers off _his_ cowboy hat as an eight year old bought it for 59c.

"That cost me over €100" he'd moaned. "I can't believe it went so cheap."

"Better price on eBay." Bollo had growled, "That where Bollo sell stuff he doesn't want others to find."

Vince had almost winced in pain as a man had bought a pair of _his_ skinny jeans that were going to be _far _too small for their new owner and whilst he took the money, he muttered;

"I hope you're on a good diet."

After a while he'd noticed Howard was missing but when he asked Bollo the ape had just shrugged.

"Maybe," a sullen Naboo had started, after Vince had almost burst into tears as a young electro girl bounced off with Vince's famous 'glitter ball suit', "he just couldn't stand to hear you moaning any more."

Now, Vince just sat dejectedly picking at a loose thread on his t-shirt.

"Vince." Howard said softly, sitting next to his friend. "Are you going to tell me why you sold all your clothes?"

Hearing it out loud only made the whole thing more real and Vince almost cried, almost. He just clenched his jaw tightly and shook his head.

"Come on. I thought we told each other everything."

"I..." Vince started, "I needed the money."

"Needed the money? Why? What's happened?"

"There's this new jacket. The ultimate in fashion accessories. It can never go out of fashion, ever. It was worn by all the greatest fashionistas and, and... I _have _to have it Howard."

"Isn't it going to be hard to accessorise a jacket with nothing?"

"It goes with nothing though, that's the point. It goes with everything. Oh, you don't understand - of course you don't, look at you. You look like a shit, wrapped in brown paper."

"Thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that I just find it hard to think of different shades of browns; I'm more purples and oranges."

"Fair enough. So, have you got enough money for the jacket?"

"Yeah... but, but..." Vince bit hard on his bottom lip, tears welling up in his eyes. "Lance Dior bought it." he gasped eventually, barely controlling his anger and upset.

"So now... I have none of my clothes and no jacket. I'm just another unfashionable no body. Oh my God!" Vince's face blanched as the horrific realisation dawned on him like a corduroy sunrise; "I'm like you."

Howard frowned but he decided to let it pass, telling himself 'it was the grief talking'.

"Well," he said huffily, "I think there might be a surprise for you..."

"A surprise?" Vince was sat up eagerly now. _He's so easy to please_, smiled Howard to himself.

"Yeah."

"Oooo, what is it? Is it a new hat? Oh, did you buy me that Jagger ring I wanted? Or did you..."

"Why don't you go and have a look in your wardrobe?"

"In my wardrobe? Why? It's bare as James Blunt's criminal record."

"Just go and look."

Vince got up suspiciously; "Why, though?"

"Vince." he sounded angry now, so Vince just shrugged and traipsed slowly to their shared room and opened the wardrobe. He was speechless for a moment or two and then he just let out a weird cheering laugh and shouted "My clothes came home to me."

Vince spent the rest of the evening carefully inspecting each and every item in his wardrobe, making sure their were no stains or stretch marks on his beloved clothes. Howard just sat on the sofa, grinning to himself every time he heard Vince cheer to himself as another vital fashion item was deemed to be 'unharmed'. It didn't matter that he'd spent all last months wages and all next months wages and possibly the months wages after that buying this stuff back from the customers as they went round the corner. It didn't matter that that final feather boa had cost him more than just money when he'd found he had to retrieve it from Eleanor and it didn't matter that he'd never be able to buy that wonder trombone he'd been saving up for, for so long. Vince was happy and that's all he needed to make his life complete.

--

A few nights later, when Howard was just drifting off to sleep, he heard loud rustling from the other man in the room. He turned his head and was surprised to find Vince stood next to his bed, holding out a box. He rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly but Vince was still there.

"You okay?" asked the younger man, "You got something in your eye?"

"No." Howard grumbled, pushing himself up and leaning against his headboard. "What are you doing?"

"I got you a present."

"What?" Howard was completely confused now. Vince didn't get him presents. Vince didn't think about other people. "What is it?"

"Open it and find out, small eyes." he grinned, sitting on the vacated piece of bed. "You're gonna love it though."

Howard frowned suspisciously. Last time Vince had said that, he'd bought him a Gary Numan 'Greatest Hits' CD. But not this time. This time when he unwrapped the gift he was greeted by an impressive brown, nutmeg case, with elaborate fastenings and when he opened it, there, against the velvet lining was the most beautiful trombone he'd ever seen. It was beautifully crafted and had clearly cost a lot of money. And on it was an inscription;

_Thanks for being the best friend anyone could want. Love Vince xxxx_

Howard read the words over and over before looking up to say 'thank you' in a quiet, gob smacked whisper.

Vince smiled a little bashfully. "Naboo told me that you bought all my clothes back off the people as they left. I can't believe you let me think they'd returned all by themselves but apparently that's not possible. Naboo reckons they can't just sprout legs and run off and when I pointed out that the jeans already _had _legs, he just got a bit angry."

"Mmm."

"What I'm trying to say Howard is... thank you." And, he leant over and placed a tentative kiss at the corner of the stunned man's mouth, when he pulled away he fixed Howard with a gaze that was full of, dare he think it...love?

Howard didn't recover from his shock until Vince was already back in his own bed but he knew that this was his moment. He had to tell Vince how he felt about him now or it would never happen. He was sure now, the more he thought about it, that Vince's eyes had been telling him he loved him.

"Umm, Vince." he started uncertainly.

"Mmm?"

"I..."

_Don't tell him you fool, you're wrong. _

_No I'm not. _

_"_Vince, I really think that..."

_Oh your going to ruin it. If you tell him, he'll never be your friend again. _

_Shut up. _

"Vince, I..."_Don't _"think" _Stop. _"I" _You'll regret it. _"lo-"

Vince's mobile phone went off blasting Cars into the room and stealing the end of Howard's words replacing them with nauseatingly high pitched bleeping. Vince scrabbled quickly to turn it off, mentally kicking himself for having it on in the first place.

"Sorry about that." he smiled once he'd silenced the racket. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing." Howard sighed.

"Oh. Okay." Vince flopped back in his pillows and stared at the ceiling. He was sure Howard was about to say something important. He'd felt that weird buzzing in the air that always came just before something life changing was announced but his stupid phone had gone and ruined it, hadn't it? And now... well he guessed he'd never know. But he'd had more than distinct feeling of déjà vu. He'd felt just like he had at Howard's party last year just after the spangly jazzy American had arrived, as though he was on the brink of finally getting what he'd always wanted but something had got in his way at the crucial moment. He sighed heavily.

It clearly just wasn't meant to be.


End file.
